A Chance Meeting
by AzureOtter
Summary: Les Miserables/Pride and Prejudice crossover. Easy to understand even if you're only familiar with one of the fandoms (or neither!). Summary: Mr. Darcy (Pride and Prejudice), on a business trip to France, encounters Fantine (Les Miserables) on the foul streets of Paris, and is inspired to help this suffering creature.


**AN: I promised my readers of _Fantine's Trials _that I would write this fanfic, so here it is! Because ****_Pride and Prejudice _****takes place during 1813 and this section of ****_Les Miserables _****is a bit later, around 1820, this takes place about seven years after Mr. Darcy and Elizabeth Bennet have been married. Reviews, favorites, and follows are appreciated but not required. **

**-AzureOtter **

It was a fine autumn's day in the year of 1820. The leaves on the trees were at their most beautiful point, the air held a small but not unpleasant chill, and the grass was still as green as could be under the blanket of fallen leaves.

In the town, business men worked on last minute trading, mothers rushed about to buy new shoes for their children, and the oppressed factory workers were even smiling at the beautiful weather, despite their knowledge of the inevitable fact that winter was coming.

In the country, farmers hurried to finish up with the work before winter, children ran about laughing and playing in the leaves, and their mothers, who were sitting in a rocking chair outside sewing new clothes for the colder weather, scolded them for jumping in the mud piles.

And in a house located on a handsome estate near Lambton, England, a certain Fitzwilliam Darcy sat at his desk, finishing a letter.

"Hello, my dear," said a voice. He turned around and saw his lovely wife, Elizabeth, standing behind him. "May I inquire whom you are writing to?" she asked.

"I am finishing up some business regarding my affairs in France," her husband replied, signing his name with an elaborate flourish. "There. Done."

"Oh, must you go?" Elizabeth demanded.

"Yes, I'm afraid I must." Darcy shut the drawer of his desk and stood, taking his wife's hands in his. "Business calls. But I will return soon."

"In time for the baby?"

He smiled. "Of course. It will only be a couple days, and the baby is not due for another fortnight, at the very least."

Elizabeth was expecting their third child. They were already parents of a healthy pair of twins - - a boy and a girl, names Charlotte and Daniel. They were both six years old, and very excited to be elder siblings.

Elizabeth leaned in and kissed her husband's cheek. "I will miss you."

"I will miss you, too," he replied.

"Oh, but don't go thinking I can't get on without you," Lizzy said, a twinkle in her eye.

"I would never dream of it!" Darcy said, faking offence. He then laughed and took his wife in his arms, kissing the top of her head. "I must leave in an hour."

"You better go prepare, then."

An hour later, Fitzwilliam was saying goodbye to his family. "Oh, cheer up, Daniel, I've been gone before," he said, tousling the child's hair. He hugged Charlotte and winked at his wife, who blew him a kiss.

"Goodbye!" the family chorused as their husband and father took off in the carriage.

* * *

Once in France, Darcy settled down at his room in the hotel and partoke of some refreshment. It was after nightfall, but he insisted on taking a walk.

"Careful, Monsieur," said the maid, who spoke a little English. "The streets of France can be foul at night, very foul indeed."

"I can take care of myself," Darcy replied. He tipped his hat to the old lady and was out the door before she could protest.

He wandered along the cobblestone, his boots clicking with each step. It was a normal autumn night - - the moon was full, and the air was chilly, and his cheeks were a light pink. It was the perfect night for a walk.

As he walked, he mused over his life, compared to what it was seven years ago.

Darcy was a happy man of 35. He had money, he had a beautiful wife and two, soon to be three, lovely children, and, if he may flatter himself, still retained his handsome looks. But he always felt as if their was something missing. He always wondered how he could help some of those less fortunate. He was a happy man, but not everyone was. And where could he find exposure to those kinds of people, if he was not allowed to associate with the lower class because of his damned social status?

Life was confusing. Seven years ago, none of these thoughts would have been haunting him. But Elizabeth, Elizabeth had changed that for him. She really was something...The most beautiful woman he'd ever laid eyes on, for one thing, but also a caring mother, a wonderful wife, and an independent woman who knew exactly what she thought of everyone and everything - - and, when they first met, had formed some _very _ill-favoured opinions of him.

So absorbed was he in his thoughts that he didn't notice where he was until he had walked right into a streetlamp.

Clutching his pounding head, Darcy swore and grabbed his handkerchief to check for blood. There was a bit - - but only enough to be equivalent to a minor injury. Darcy held the kerchief on his forehead and turned around - - and found himself face-to-face with a woman.

She was clearly a prostitute. There was no doubt about that. Her face, which had once been pretty, held too much rouge, her clothing was flimsy and worn and inappropriate for the chilly weather, and she was looking at him in such a way that made him uncomfortable.

He gave a polite nod and tried to move past her, but she blocked his path.

"Hello there, Monsieur," she said, grinning at him. When she smiled, he was shocked to see that two of her front teeth were missing. "Why don't you come back to my place? It's not very warm, but I can light a fire. I could make you...very happy."

She got up very close to his face while she said this. Her breath stunk of brandy, and her rotted teeth were not a pretty sight.

Darcy just happened to speak French. Still clutching the kerchief to his forehead, he said, "Madame, I think I had better leave now." He gestured to his injured forehead. "I must see to this."

"Oh, I can fix that up for you," she said, dabbing at his head with the handkerchief. "And then...I can fix you up in other ways, too. _Many _other ways."

She was touching him now. Her arms were around his neck, her mouth inches from his chin.

"No!" Darcy said sharply. "Madame, I am a married man! If you'll excuse me, I must be going."

He shoved past her, but once again she blocked his path. This time, she looked desperate, and for a moment, her face was that of a hungry wild animal. "Monsieur, I am _begging _you," she said, clasping her hands. "I haven't had a customer so far this night, and I'm unlikely to have one anytime soon. I'm not attractive anymore, men don't like me. I swear, I used to be pretty! I had bright blue eyes, pink cheeks, white teeth, and golden curls like the sun! Oh, how people praised my golden curls! Look. I know you must be a respectable man, and you're married and all that, but you know nothing of the hell I'm living! I have a _child, _monsieur. A beautiful little girl, whose looks are just how I've described my former ones. She's living with an innkeeper and his wife, and they have two little girls of their own. They need me to send them money so my Cosette can live! Please, Monsieur! I need this money!"

She was in tears by now. Darcy sighed. "Stop crying, child. What is your name?"

The woman looked up. She seemed to be flattered that he had sensed how young she really was, despite her old and worn appearance. "Fantine, Monsieur. I am called Fantine."

"Here, Fantine." Darcy shoved several shiny coins into the woman's outstretched hand. "It's English money, but you can trade it in."

"Monsieur...This is quite a lot of money!" Fantine exclaimed.

Darcy, in spite of himself, chuckled. "Yes, it is. Help your little girl, Fantine. How old is she?"

"Why, six, monsieur."

Darcy grinned. "I have two children that same age. A boy and a girl. Their names are Charlotte and Daniel, and they have light hair, the most charming green eyes, bright pink cheeks, and are always jumping and playing and full of energy."

"And your wife?"

"Oh! The most exquisite creature you've ever beheld. Not only is she lovely beyond compare, but she has wit, wit beyond measure. She's the most wonderful female I've ever known in the course of my life."

Fantine smiled, suddenly shy. "Your family sounds lovely." Suddenly, she erupted into a fit of coughing. Darcy grabbed her shoulders. "Fantine, are you okay?"

She finished and said, "Oh, yes, I'm fine."

"My god, you're ill!"

"It...comes and goes. Now, enough of that. You've given me the money. Are you sure you don't want to...?"

"No, no, no!" Darcy exclaimed, blushing like a schoolboy.

She nodded. "After hearing about your family back in England, I can see why."

"Yes. Just...keep the money, and...don't worry about the rest."

Fantine looked at him strangely. "I've never met anyone like you, Monsieur."

"I've been wanting to help someone lately," he said. "Fantine, this has helped fill a void in my life, a void my wife is always encouraging me to fill."

"Thank you, Monsieur."

"No. Thank _you_."

He tipped his hat to her and was off. Fantine watched him disappear behind the corner of the street. She looked down, and found she was still holding the man's bloodied handkerchief. She smiled. She would keep it as a reminder of the man who helped her.

Shivering and coughing and feeling happier than she had in months, Fantine walked back to her home, clutching the handkerchief in her hand.


End file.
